


Prélude

by TastesLikeSTFU



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Classical Music, Food, M/M, Viola - Freeform, Violist, Violist Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 17:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TastesLikeSTFU/pseuds/TastesLikeSTFU
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt on the Hannibal Kink Meme, "Will plays an instrument".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prélude

**Author's Note:**

> Kink meme prompt can be found [here](http://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org/1847.html?thread=1457463#cmt1457463).
> 
> The song Will is supposed to be playing is [here](http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=eYrT9OdmiVw).  
> This version is a live version, so there is a bit of sound interference echoing back, and he changes tempo at the end enough to bother me. But this is one of the better versions I've found.

Hannibal can hear it from the open screen door as he walks up Will's front drive, carrying a paper bag of some delicious left overs.  
The warm air presses against his skin and he appreciates the faint strains of Bach drifting his way. He had no idea Will listened to classical music. The visage of rumpled plaid button ups and tattered jeans didn't help him seem, in any way… refined. But here Hannibal is, crunching his expensive shoes up the driveway, enjoying the classical music coming from inside the house.

He steps up the front porch, stairs creaking tiredly against his weight and Hannibal sees through the screen, now. He can see why his approach wasn't greeted earlier.  
Will stands in the middle of his slightly cluttered den, baggy white t-shirt hanging from his frame, a pair of aforementioned tattered jeans holding to his hips, the threads from the lower hems dragging over sock clad feet.

Will plays, a barely noticeable sway to his body.  
Hannibal even opens the door, balancing the sack on his hip, and leans against the frame, but Will does not stir. So, the man in the doorway waits until the piece ends. Hannibal can only offer so many excuses as to why it is surprising that Will plays and plays well before he begins to sound like he's grasping for straws.  
But the truth of the matter is that Will is an unstable man. And to see someone so frighteningly close to the edge, so constantly uncomfortable look like he's in total control is, well, it's a whole new, shocking side to Will Graham. Seeing him like this is seeing him in his element. At least, to an outsider it would look like he's in his element. To Hannibal, Will looks more at home at a crime scene. Surrounded by blood and bodies, no matter how much the eideteker detests it. Will belongs to the monsters he hunts.

When the piece comes to a close and Hannibal speaks, Will startles. His eyes are wide as he whirls around to see his friend smiling benignly at him.  
"Bach's "Prélude", first of the six cello suites. Transposed for viola, if I am correct?"  
Hannibal steps in without invitation. (He doesn't need it and he knows that. They both do.)  
"Beautifully played, Will. I must say I am disappointed for not having known about your musical talents earlier."

"You weren't supposed to." Will mumbles, pulling the shoulder rest from his instrument and turning to place the viola in the case laying open on the piano bench. Ironic, isn't it? Will using one accessory of an instrument to hold another? Things are funny that way.  
He wedges the bow where it belongs in the case lid and shuts it, latching it.

"Was it supposed to be a secret?" Hannibal asks as he wanders into Will's kitchen.

"It's relaxing. It helps me unwind sometimes. Just like the way a good wine might calm you. Or the way firing a gun at a paper target might help Jack…"  
Will carries his case upstairs as he speaks, stashing it under his bed once more.  
When he joins Hannibal in the kitchen downstairs, he finds the other man pulling a few bowls from the paper bag and opening them, faint tendrils of steam wafting into the air. Of _course_ Hannibal would find a way to keep food hot and steaming over the course of an hour's drive.

Will leans his weight on the heels of his palms, pressing into the cheap plastic countertop.  
"Do you bring your patients food often?"

Hannibal looks up from his task, eyebrow quirked.  
"Are you my patient, Will?"

Will says nothing, just licks his lips and turns to root through his kitchen drawers for suitable forks.  
He hands one to Hannibal when he finds one and they eat in silence. Until Hannibal has to open his mouth and ask, "Why the viola?"

Will swallows the bite in his mouth and hesitates momentarily before saying, "The sound tends to be lower, mellower. It goes hand in hand with relaxation. And besides, the violin is highly overrated."  
That earns an amused huff from Hannibal. They finish eating, the sound of crickets through the screen door chasing the sounds of their silverware clicking.

When they are done and the dishes are washed, dried and placed neatly back in the bag Hannibal brought, Will leans his lower back against the edge of his countertop, crosses his arms and says, "You can't have come all this way just to eavesdrop on my practicing or to feed me. Not that I don't enjoy your company, but why are you here?"

Hannibal's eyes twitch over Will's form.  
"I came to ask how you were doing. Is the stag still…prevalent?"

Will takes a slow, deep breath through his nose, "Prevalent as ever."  
He can't shake the deep seated feeling that something doesn't match up. Hannibal's blatant concern doesn't align with Will's version of how people usually treat him. Which is normally with disinterest or scorn. Sometimes even disgust.  
Why should Hannibal differ from everyone else? Why should he offer active concern when Will always gets distant apprehension?

"What makes you different from anyone else to associate with me, Dr. Lecter?" Will counters before Hannibal has time to form another question, rife with ulterior, psycho-evaluative motives.  
"What can you possibly offer that no one else has attempted to before? Is it the food? Friendship? Looking nice in your suits next to someone like me?" The last one is a low blow, a shot in the dark and Will knows it.

"I can offer you comfort. I offer it in my presence. In my cooking."  
Will feels like Hannibal 'offers' these things blindly, but not ineptly. His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose, gone ever so damp with sweat in the sly heat of his kitchen. The humidity of the Virginia air in May collecting in the empty space between Will and Hannibal.  
Will doesn't exactly give up so much as he gives in, he succumbs to the silence. He steps forward, pressing his cool, dry palms to Hannibal's face and kissing him. He can feel the other man's surprise, can feel him hesitate before laying his hands on Will's hips and tilting his head to better slot their mouths together.

Joined like this, they are a duet. They are an unlikely pair, but _together_ they make music in the rhythm of their kisses, the meter of their mouths, the beat of their hearts.  
Together, they perform.

**Author's Note:**

> I did take a bit of a creative liberty with the prompt.  
> I play the viola myself and thought, "Well, why the hell not?"
> 
> _Additionally, if you should meet the actors, writers, creator, or anyone involved with the show/book/movie this fanfiction is about, please do not inform them, encourage them to read, or make them read this unless you have explained to me in detail why you want to expose them to my writing and have received my explicit permission to do so._


End file.
